


Shokku

by daydreamer1227



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Gen, Hurt Hinata Shouyou, Injury, Protective Karasuno Volleyball Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamer1227/pseuds/daydreamer1227
Summary: Karasuno had an early practice match with Nekoma in the morning, and Ukai needed to sleep. He hadn't expected an indecisive customer to keep him at the shop an extra fifteen minutes, and he certainly hadn't expected Hinata to show up, waterlogged and injured.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 592





	1. Chapter 1

It was late, and though the deal he had with his family dictated he worked mornings at the Sakanoshita Store so he could coach volleyball in the afternoons, seeing his grandmother behind the counter past eleven p.m. triggered some familial responsibility in him so he offered to close up the shop. She’d been grateful and called him a good grandson so he didn’t regret it, but the asshole who was wasting time aimlessly browsing had Keishin Ukai’s brow twitching in irritation. He usually tried to avoid kicking people out for closing if he could help it, but he’d wanted to close over fifteen minutes ago.

The team had likely all made it home and were in their beds by now–at least they’d better be. He knew Hinata and Kageyama tended to stay at least an hour after to practice their quicks, but with a practice match against Nekoma in the morning, he hoped they’d had the sense to turn in early–then again, this was Hinata and Kageyama, and their senses when it came to anything that wasn’t volleyball–things like school, things like _sleep_ –were significantly lacking. They were a pair of volleyball _otaku_ that would play through the night if you let them. He hoped for their sakes that they’d headed home with everyone else, because if they’d left at their usual time, it was likely the rain had caught them. He could hear it still, pounding away at the roof.

Even if his reckless first-years didn’t appreciate sleep, Ukai certainly did, and this one customer _wasn’t leaving_.

“ _Sumimasen_ ,” said Ukai. “I’m afraid I have to close up, soon.” He did feel a little bad, with the rain, but he couldn’t wait indefinitely for it to stop.

The man grinned, and there was something in that smile and lax posture that Ukai didn’t like. “Of course,” said the man, going back to browsing, not hurrying in the slightest. He grabbed a pack of snacks off the rack, read it, and tossed it haphazardly back on the wrong shelf.

Ukai heard the shop door open and spun, desperate at this point, because they had to leave early the next morning and he was _tired_. “We’re closed,” he said, but the words died in his mouth as panic rose to take its place.

Hinata stood in the doorway, soaked to the bone and shivering, with bloody scrapes across his hands, arms, and legs, his dripping bag draped over his shoulder.

“Hinata!” He scrambled from behind the counter to the tiny middle blocker, suddenly grateful beyond belief for the asshole in the snack aisle that had stalled the closing of his family’s shop. Whatever that man picked out, Ukai would give it to him for free.

His hands found Hinata’s shoulders as he looked him over. “Did someone do this to you?” he asked, his mind automatically going to the worst of places because Hinata was _small_ , and young, and if someone wanted to overpower him they could, _so easily_ –

Hinata looked dazed. “I crashed my bike.”

 _He crashed his bike_. Ukai wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

“The rain,” said Hinata, rambling, “I couldn’t see. I guess they couldn’t see me either, because they ran me off, and I sort of couldn’t… on the hill, I couldn’t…”

“You were run off the road?” said Ukai, horrified.

“I’m okay,” said Hinata, “I think…”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I, uh,” Hinata looked down at himself, as if just noticing, “I had to leave my bike.”

Ukai took a knee and examined the scrapes. They told a story of being thrown to the pavement, of sliding and rolling across the asphalt. They were angry and red, and the lingering rainwater was tinged pink as it dripped down to stain the lip of his socks. He grabbed Hinata’s hands, looking closely at his scraped palms, part of him torn between relief that they weren’t that bad, and worry over the temperature of his fingers. “You’re freezing,” he said.

Hinata’s clothes clung to him, heavy and dripping, and his orange hair was a sopping mass plastered to his head, dripping into his eyes. “I had to leave my bike,” he said again, still shivering. “Is… is that okay? That I came here?”

“Of course it’s okay!” But the shivering wasn’t. The bleeding wasn’t. “I’ve got a first aid kit in the back,” he said, turning away. “A blanket, too. Wait here.”

Hinata nodded, setting his bag down in the growing puddle on the floor and clutching his arms around himself for extra warmth as Ukai disappeared into the back.

Hinata thought of his bike, his _poor bike_ , left misshapen and broken on the side of the road with its front wheel bent and a missing pedal. He’d wanted to take it with him, but dragging it would have slowed him down, would have kept him on a dangerous curving road with too many blind spots and low visibility in the rain. He’d been about halfway home, already a quarter of the way up the mountain, when the car had come from around the bend too quickly, too recklessly, too close to his side of the road­–

Soaked and bleeding with a broken bike and a broken phone, Hinata had set off back down the mountain. He’d found himself outside of Ukai’s shop without consciously realizing where he’d been heading.

He was cold and the scrapes stung and his limbs ached, but he was fine. He was _fine_ , plenty fine enough for their practice match. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks, and if Ukai even tried to bench him he would have Kageyama throw him ten tosses just to prove that he could spike even if his hands were a little messed up.

He was fine. Probably.

He loved playing against Kenma, and ever since their training camp, even Tsukishima seemed to get fired up for their matches. Hinata had a strong feeling that it had less to do with his love for the sport and everything to do with Kuroo snickering every time Tsukishima missed a block. Tsukishima wanted to win out of spite.

There was movement in a nearby aisle and Hinata jumped. He hadn’t realized there was anybody else in the shop. The man was tall, his posture slumped, with his hands in his pockets. He was staring at Hinata.

Hinata gave a small bow in greeting.

The man’s lips stretched into a smile. “ _Konbanwa_ ,” he said in greeting, his voice low.

Hinata stiffened, but the man was being polite, so he returned a small, “ _Konbanwa_.”

The man returned to browsing, but he was gradually making his way down the aisle, getting closer. He hadn’t done or said anything inappropriate, but there was a chill running up the back of Hinata’s neck that was unrelated to the deep cold that had settled into his bones from the rain.

Ukai was just in the back room. There was no reason to feel uneasy. There was no reason–

“You have an interesting head of hair,” the man said, sidestepping closer, making a show of browsing the small, packaged cakes. “Do you dye it?”

Hinata frowned. “No.”

There was a flash of excitement in the man’s eyes. “So it’s natural?”

Hinata didn’t answer. The man’s eyes raked their way down Hinata before flicking back up to his face. Hinata backed away, distinctly uncomfortable. “Coach,” he called tentatively.

“Just a second, Hinata,” Ukai called from the other room.

Before Hinata could say anything else, the man was standing over him, leaning down to whisper in his ear, his warm breath tickling his chilled skin. “Quiet, _Chibi-chan_. If he comes back out, I’ll kill him.”

Hinata froze, terror washing over him.

“Why don’t you just come with me,” the man said, laying a hand on Hinata’s head, fisting his fingers in his hair.

It hurt. He didn’t want to. _He didn’t want to_. But Ukai–

 _‘I’ll kill him_. _’_

Hinata let himself be pulled outside into the rain.

Ukai finally spotted the first aid kit on one of the higher shelves and let out a huff of annoyance. He pulled out a stool and climbed up, grabbing it and popping it open to see if it was stocked. He climbed down, draped a blanket over his shoulder, and left the back room, rifling through the kit for disinfectant and bandages.

“Here we are, Hinata, these should do the trick,” he said, but when he looked up, his shop was empty. The asshole customer was gone. _Hinata_ was gone.

Ukai dropped the blanket and first aid kit and grabbed a broom, handle-side up in front of him like some sort of weapon. He ran outside and was instantly soaked. The sidewalk was illuminated by the shop and the four vending machines lining its walls, but Hinata was nowhere in sight. The rain clouded Ukai’s vision of the rest of the street, and he was overcome by a terrible weight of despair before he heard it–

A muffled cry of distress.

“Hinata!” he yelled, running around to the back of his shop, broom held aloft and ready to strike.

The man held Hinata to his chest, his arm tightly wrapped around the first-year’s neck to keep him immobile and compliant against him, as the other arm started to snake its way down his chest–

Ukai roared and launched himself forward, whacking the man with his broom handle once–

Twice–

Three times before the man let go, dropping Hinata who slumped to his hands and knees as he heaved for breath.

“Coach,” Hinata gasped.

Ukai swung the broom again, and the man scrambled away. He placed himself firmly in front of Hinata with his broom at the ready, fury pumping through his veins, utilizing every shred of his willpower and self-restraint to keep himself from killing the sick bastard. “Leave!”

The man hesitated, glancing behind Ukai–

“I said get the fuck out of here!”

The man shruggeded and turned away with a lazy wave. “ _Ja_ ,” he called, careless.

God. _God_. What had just–? Had all of that _really_ just–?

Hinata’s gasps for breath brought Ukai down to Earth. The first-year was shaking violently, his eyes wide as he gasped and choked in a panic. Ukai hurried to his side and hauled him to his feet, not willing to risk the man returning while they were preoccupied. He escorted Hinata back inside, locking the doors behind them.

Hinata sank to the floor, and Ukai lowered to his knees next to him. “Breathe,” he said. “ _Breathe_ , Hinata.”

Hinata’s wide, desperate eyes found his own, and his hand reached forward, absently searching for something–

It found Ukai’s soaked T-shirt and fisted itself there, trembling.

They sat there for a long time, breathing, shaking, their clothes dripping.

Hinata finally started to calm down. “He–” he said, shaking. “He said he’d kill you.”

“I’m fine,” said Ukai. “You’re fine. We should call your mom–”

“She’s not home,” said Hinata, his voice hollow. She and Natsu were in Osaka for the weekend. Hinata had stayed behind for the practice match.

Ukai frowned. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it tightly around Hinata who clutched onto it like a lifeline. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” Hinata stared blankly. In shock? “I have a spare futon,” he offered. Nothing. Ukai sighed and stood up. He wasn’t going to be able to close up shop properly tonight. He sent a quick explanation/apology text to his dad who would be opening up in the morning and grabbed the first aid kit before shutting off the lights. He gently led Hinata to the passenger-side of his car, who climbed in without any questions.

When he started the engine, a warning light turned on. _Passenger Airbag Off_.

The drive consisted of him talking and Hinata not listening. Ukai got more worried by the second. Hinata had shut down, drawn tight like a coil, and nothing he said was getting through to him. When they pulled into his driveway, he sent a quick group-text to the team.

_Keishin: Hinata with me. Hurt, but okay. Could use a hand._

That should do it. Surely someone from the team was awake.

He led Hinata inside, keeping up a stream of one-sided conversation, trying to put him at ease as he sat him down and disinfected and bandaged his scrapes. To Ukai’s horror, there was already some discoloration forming around Hinata’s throat.

It was going to bruise.

Unsure what else he could do, Ukai rolled out a futon in the living room. “Is this all right?” he asked.

Nothing.

“Hinata,” he said, sitting next to him on the couch. “You’re okay.”

Hinata looked at him, but it was still that blank, empty, look. He was still shaking. He was still scared.

Ukai gave Hinata a pile of clothes that were miles too big for someone who wasn’t even 5’ 5”, and Hinata went to the bathroom to change. Ukai changed out of his own wet clothes in his bedroom and checked his phone when he was done. Seven missed messages.

_Nishinoya: I’m on my way._

_Sugawara: I can be there in 10_

_Kageyama: What the hell did the dumbass do this time?_

_Daichi: Coming_

_Kageyama: I’m coming too_

_Ennoshita: I can’t come. What happened? Is Hinata okay?_

_Asahi: Can’t make it. Keep us updated!_

The doorbell rang, and Ukai hurried for the door. He assumed those who hadn’t responded were already asleep. He’d have to send another message so they wouldn’t panic when they woke up in the morning–

He’d assumed wrong.

Because the first one to arrive at his door hadn’t responded with a text, had been, in fact, one of the few people Ukkai had been certain wouldn’t come even if they _had_ been awake to read his message.

“Tsukishima?”


	2. Chapter 2

It was painfully obvious to Ukai that upon realizing nobody else had arrived yet, Tsukishima regretted coming–or at least he regretted not waiting for someone else, someone like Sugawara who was good at dealing with Hinata, someone that Hinata would actually be happy to see. The discomfort was plain as day on his expressive face, and Ukai felt the absurd urge to laugh. Tsukishima and Hinata weren’t friends–Ukai didn’t think they even liked each other–but the fact that Tsukishima was there at all spoke volumes.

So Ukai didn’t comment, because Tsukishima already looked about ready to bolt.

Then Hinata came out of the bathroom in baggy pants with the bottoms rolled up, tied tight so they wouldn’t slide off his hips, and a T-shirt that may as well have been a smock. Ukai would have laughed if the whole situation weren’t still making his skin crawl.

Ukai watched as Tsukishima took in the bandages and the bruising, and a grim frown presented itself on the first-year’s face. “What the hell happened to you?”

Hinata’s eyes went wide, already more of a reaction than Ukai had managed to garner since they’d left the shop. “Tsukishima?”

“Obviously.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Tch. Just answer the question.”

“I…” Hinata looked at the floor. “I’m okay.”

“Is that what I asked? _Bakayaro_.”

Hinata glared. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Too late. I already took the time to come all the way here, so just fess up. Did the King finally get tired of you and jump serve you out of the gym?”

“I’m sorry I wasted precious minutes of your evening,” snarled Hinata.

“ _Oi, oi_ ,” said Ukai, holding up his hands in precaution, because this was going downhill fast.

But Tsukishima’s face was flustered. Ukai knew, if the first-year hadn’t been all that worried before, he definitely was now, because what he’d just said was akin to usual conversation by his standards, but what Hinata had said was defensive, and hostile, and not like himself. Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed. “Did someone hurt you?”

Hinata froze.

“ _Kuso_.” Tsukishima grabbed Hinata by the wrist and dragged him to the couch, sitting him down. “Why didn’t you just say so? _Aho_.” He turned to Ukai. “Coach,” he said, “may I use your kitchen?”

Ukai nodded and led him to the adjacent room, casting a worried glance back at Hinata. “Aren’t you going to talk to him?”

Tsukishima laughed, the sound more pitying than amused. “Oh, no. I’m not going to do that.” He grabbed the pot from the rice cooker and carefully measured a few cups of Koshihikari rice from the bag on the counter.

“Why not?”

Tsukishima rinsed the rice, added water, and returned it to the cooker. He turned it on. “If Hinata never made it home, he’s probably hungry.”

“Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima huffed. “I’m the last person he’ll talk to. Leave it to Sugawara-san.”

“But–”

“Coach,” he said, his gaze level, “I’ll only make it worse.”

Because they weren’t friends. Tsukishima couldn’t offer the kind of support Hinata needed, and Hinata wouldn’t accept it if he did. Their relationship was too hostile, too antagonizing, for either of them to give in, even a little.

The doorbell rang, and by the time Ukai made his way back to the living room, Sugawara was already lifting Hinata’s chin delicately to examine the bruise on his neck. Daichi stood at Hinata’s shoulders, a silent guardian, his arms crossed in righteous fury as they listened to Hinata’s teary-eyed, rapid-fire recount of what happened.

Ukai returned to the kitchen and pulled out the miso. He and Tsukishima put together a soup while the rice cooked.

Nishinoya’s arrival was loud and dramatic, as expected, but Ukai hadn’t even known that Kageyama arrived until the first-year showed up in the kitchen, looking lost and more than a little frustrated. It seemed Kageyama was just as useless as Tsukishima and Ukai when it came to a situation like this.

Tsukishima tossed Kageyama a pack of nori, and they started wrapping the rice.

Ukai hadn’t been able to get through to Hinata. Tsukishima was both unwilling and unable to bridge a gap that months of their volatile relationship had caused. And Kageyama…

Kageyama wasn’t the best at dealing with Hinata on the best of days.

Nor was he, it seemed, the best in the kitchen. His fingers, so deft when setting a volleyball, slipped and fumbled with the nori, tearing it and ripping holes. His onigiri were lopsided, and the nori more resembled crumpled pieces of paper than sheets of seaweed.

Tsukishima’s mouth tilted. It was small and subtle and oh so patronizing and Kageyama locked onto it in a second. “ _Nandato, kore?_ ”

“ _Betsuni_ ,” said Tsukishima, his voice lilting.

“ _Temee–_ ”

“ _Oi_ ,” said Ukai.

“Tch.” Wow. They both did that at the same time.

“That should do it,” said Ukai, wrapping the last onigiri, hoping to distract from their pissing contest.

Tsukishima smirked. “Oh, dear. Should we just throw all of Kageyama’s away? I’m not sure they’re edible.”

“Maybe we should burn yours,” said Kageyama, his eyebrow twitching. Ukai waited for the reasoning behind that one.

It never came.

Kageyama had never been quite as eloquent as Tsukishima. His entire vocabulary of insults seemed to be limited to _boke_ , and that was typically reserved for his interactions with Hinata, in which he would sometimes use it two or three times in a single run. _Boke! Hinata Boke!_ Which was why Ukai was so confused that Kageyama and Hinata actually _did_ seem to be friends. Despite the insults, despite the arguing, despite the sometimes-physical violence–

“ _Ne_ ,” said Kageyama, his voice low. “What exactly happened to Hinata? He looks…”

_Shaken. Bruised. Scared. Not like himself._

Tsukishima froze, and they both looked to Ukai, who sighed and rubbed at his face. “He crashed his bike.”

“ _Boke_.”

“He came to my shop, and I left him for a second, and…” Ukai slammed his fist onto the counter, making the two first-years jump. “Some bastard got his hands on him.” A dark aura accumulated around Kageyama, and Ukai took the liberty of stopping the story there. He turned off the burner under the miso soup and started filling bowls. “Take these out to them, would you?”

Tsukishima and Kageyama took the bowls out to their teammates before returning for the plates of onigiri. Ukai grabbed the last plate and made his way back into the living room.

Hinata looked better. He was tucked between Daichi and Sugawara on the couch, sipping from his bowl as Nishinoya yammered loudly in front of them, his own soup on the coffee table.

“ _Daijoubu ka,_ Hinata?” Ukai asked as he set the plate of onigiri down on the coffee table.

Hinata jumped to his feet and nearly folded himself in half in a bow. “Coach!” he cried. “ _Arigatou gozaimashita!_ ”

Ukai tried to pull Hinata up from his bow. “Enough of that, Hinata,” he said, flustered.

Hinata shook his head violently, still staring at his own knees. “I’m sorry for any trouble I caused you tonight! _Gomenasai! Gomenasai!_ ”

Ukai finally managed to pull Hinata upright, only to see tears in the kid’s eyes. “We’re all just glad you’re all right.”

“Coach… That man…” Hinata attached himself to Ukai in a trembling hug. “ _Arigatou gozaimashita_ ,” he said again, quieter this time, the gratitude in his voice closing up something in Ukai’s throat as he suddenly found himself unable to speak.

“Don’t apologize, _boke_ ,” said Kageyama, setting his plate of onigiri down next to Ukai’s. “Just eat something.”

Hinata released Ukai and wiped his eyes. He sniffed and looked at Kageyama’s plate. Then Ukai’s. Then Tsukishima’s. He looked back at Kageyama’s. “Pfft!”

Kageyama glared. “ _Oi_!”

Hinata pointed at the crumpled, lopsided rice balls with new tears in his eyes as he laughed. “What the heck are those, Kageyama? You kind of suck! _Ne, ne_ , Kageyama, these are the worst onigiri I’ve ever seen! Nishinoya senpai, _mite_!”

Nishinoya burst out laughing as he joined Hinata in pointing, tears in his own eyes. “They look like poops!”

Kageyama’s face reddened. “Just eat them!”

Hinata took one of Kageyama’s onigiri and ate it. He smiled. “It’s good!”

Kageyama’s face got even redder.

The seven of them ate onigiri and miso soup, the air feeling significantly lighter and less stifling now that Hinata was smiling again.

When Hinata finally gave in to the stress and exhaustion of the day, he slumped into Sugawara’s side, his empty miso bowl slipping from his hand. Daichi caught it deftly and set it on the coffee table.

Suga put an arm around Hinata, the smile fading from his face. “Coach Ukai,” he said, his voice soft, “thank you for looking out for him.”

The atmosphere shifted to solemn as the rest of them looked to Ukai and nodded.

Ukai shook his head. “I should be thanking you all,” he said, “for coming so late. He… wasn’t acting like himself. He seems much better now.”

“Do you think he’ll be all right to play tomorrow?” asked Nishinoya.

Daichi sighed. “I think we’d be hard-pressed to stop him.”

“His scrapes are mostly superficial,” said Ukai. “They shouldn’t affect his playing. His neck shouldn’t either, but…”

“It is disturbing,” said Daichi, eying the bruising around Hinata’s neck.

“Asahi-san’s gonna cry,” said Nishinoya. “And Ryuu’s gonna go ballistic.”

“Ah,” said Ukai, pulling out his phone. “I should update them. Let them know everything is all right.”

“Ukai-san,” said Sugawara. “ _Sumimasen…_ but… would you mind if I stayed here tonight? I’d like to stay with Hinata, if that’s all right.”

Ukai clapped a hand on Sugawara’s shoulder. “Of course it’s all right. It’s late. You’re all welcome to stay, if you want.”

“Sleepover at Coach’s house!” cried Nishinoya, fists in the air.

Tsukishima stood. “Nope. I’ll be leaving.”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Tsukishima,” said Noya, slapping him on the back.

“It’ll be better without him, anyway,” said Kageyama.

“Thank you, Tsukishima,” said Ukai, leveling his gaze on the tall middle blocker. “The food was a good idea.”

“ _Hah?_ The food was your idea?” said Noya.

Tsukishima tilted his chin up, donning that air of superiority he wore so often and so well. “No need to thank me.”

Kageyama growled. “Just leave already!”

Tsukishima chuckled. “ _Hai, hai._ ” He left with a light, “ _Ja._ ”

“Why did he even come?” asked Kageyama.

Suga had a fond smile on his face. “He cares.” Kageyama looked at him in disbelief, and Suga laughed. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it.”

Daichi stood. “I’m going to head home as well. Do you have everything here, Suga?”

Suga nodded, Hinata still tucked into his side. “ _Hai_.”

Daichi looked satisfied. “Coach. Thank you, again. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Daichi left, and Ukai stood. “Futons for Sugawara and Nishinoya. Kageyama?”

Kageyama looked slightly embarrassed. “ _Onegaishimasu_.”

Ukai grinned. “Three futons, coming up.”

Suga looked down at the sleeping Hinata with a sad smile.

“He seems okay,” said Nishinoya.

“Hinata’s strong” said Kageyama, shoving one of his onigiri into his mouth.

“I just keep thinking of all the times he hides behind us when we run into stronger, taller players,” said Suga. “Hinata said… Hinata said the man who did this threatened Ukai, so Hinata went with him voluntarily.”

The color leeched from Kageyama’s face. “What?”

Suga grimaced. “If he’d had a car, it would have been so easy for him to just…”

The three of them were suddenly lost in the possibility of an entirely different reality, one where the man had taken Hinata and driven away with him, somewhere that Ukai couldn’t reach. They thought of the bruising on Hinata’s neck and of how much worse it would be if the man had free access for as long as he wanted…

Kageyama felt sick.

Suga looked to each of them, determination in his eyes. “Hinata seems fine now, but he’s still shaken up. We’ll need to keep a close eye on him tomorrow. Will you do that for me?”

Kageyama nodded.

“Don’t you worry, Hinata,” said Nishinoya, his voice choked. “Your senpai will look out for you.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning as they met for the bus to Tokyo, Nishinoya was proven right.

“I thought you said he was all right,” Asahi cried, tears running down his face as he pressed Hinata to his chest in a suffocating hug.

“He won’t be if you don’t let him go,” said Sugawara, exasperated.

Hinata struggled out of Asahi’s grip, short of breath and embarrassed.

Kiyoko frowned. Yamaguchi hovered. Yachi cried. And Tanaka…

“What do you mean the bastard got away? We need to tear his freaking arms off!”

The sight of the bruise around Hinata’s neck had deposited a cold, heavy weight of something like dread in everyone’s stomachs. The bus ride to Tokyo was unusually tense, interspersed with awkward conversations and stark silences. Hinata was there with them, bruised but otherwise _okay_ , but it had thrown off their dynamic. Dregs of worry and unwarranted guilt pressed upon them like a blanket, and by the time they arrived at Nekoma’s gym, there wasn’t an ounce of rowdiness left to even put on a face of their usual bravado.

Because Hinata had been _attacked_ , and for the first time, a match seemed inconsequential. A practice match was _just_ a practice match, even against Nekoma. What was their rivalry worth in the face of something like this?

Kuroo and Kenma met them at the parking lot.

“You all look like shit. Who died?” asked Kuroo, ever-present smirk on his face. Then he saw Hinata and the smirk fell off his face. “ _Oi_ …”

“Shoyo,” said Kenma, stepping forward, eyes wide.

“Kenma!” cried Hinata. He was, perhaps, the only one who seemed unaffected by the night before.

Kenma’s breathing picked up as he stared at the first-year’s neck, mottled with purples and blues–

Kuroo placed a hand on his shoulder, steady and warm. “Hey, Chibi-chan! How’s that freak quick coming?”

“We’re gonna smash right through your block, Kuroo-san!” said Hinata, jumping in his enthusiasm. “ _Ne,_ Kageyama!”

Kageyama nodded, stiff.

“Why don’t you guys head inside?” said Kuroo, his fake smile feeling painful, even to himself. “I’ll be right behind you. I’m gonna have a quick little chat with your Captain.”

Hinata led the pack, the only one with a smile on his face. Kenma shared a worried glance with Kuroo before hurrying to Hinata’s side.

Kuroo hoped someone intercepted Lev once they got inside the gym, because the first-year wasn’t known for his subtlety or his tact.

He let the smile fall from his face and locked weary eyes with the Karasuno Captain. “What happened to Chibi-chan?”

“He was attacked,” said Daichi, as straight forward as always. “The bandages are from his falling of his bike, but…”

Kuroo turned to watch as Karasuno made their way into the gym, Hinata’s grin blinding even from there. “He seems fine.”

“Seems that way.”

Kuroo nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

But throughout their practice match, Hinata really did seem to be fine. He winced when he spiked, the bandaged scrapes on his hands obviously paining him, but other than that, he seemed unaffected.

It was the rest of the team that was falling apart. Tanaka’s spikes were overly aggressive and possessed little accuracy, flying out of bounds more often than not. Asahi seemed more timid than usual, the memory of his collision with Hinata so long ago at the forefront of his mind, the idea of knocking into an already injured Hinata too much. Kageyama’s tosses were gentler, designed to force Hinata to take it easy and slow. Tsukishima played well, but his usual sharp tongue was silent. Nishinoya took extra care to cover stray balls around Hinata, leaving part of the court open and undefended.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nekoma crushed them into the dust. It was their worst defeat to them to date.

Nekomata and Ukai’s heads were bowed in a serious conversation, and Kuroo could guess what they were talking about. When they announced a between-games break, it was confirmed. They were taking it easy on them. They were worried. Everyone was worried.

And still, Hinata shined.

Something was wrong.

Hinata skipped off to the bathroom, and their teams unconsciously congregated at the net.

“Why are we keeping an eye on him?” asked Lev. “He seems fine.”

Kuroo looked to Kenma, who had kept a critical eye on Hinata throughout the game. Kenma shook his head.

“He’s not fine,” said Kuroo.

“Maybe he just wants to move on and forget about it but he can’t ‘cause you’re all makin’ such a big fuss,” grumbled Yamamoto.

Tanaka stiffened. “What’s that, _City Boy?_ ”

“If he wants to ignore what happened, I say let ‘im.”

“Since when is _ignoring_ it a good coping mechanism?” asked Inuoka.

“Since when are you a doctor?” barked back Yamamoto.

“ _Oi_ ,” said Kuroo. “Has anyone asked Hinata what he feels about this?”

“I’ll ask him!” announced Lev with a big smile, stalking off towards the bathroom–

Kuroo snagged the back of his shirt. “Not you.”

“We spoke with him last night,” said Daichi. “He was shaken up, but level-headed. He had no problem telling us about it.”

“Before you and Sugawara-san got there,” said Tsukishima, “he refused to say anything about it at all. And he was angry, but… that may have been my fault.”

“Poor, naïve, Tsukki,” sighed Kuroo. “Always so antagonistic. Kageyama,” he said, turning to the scowling setter, “you and Chibi-chan are close, _ne?_ Why don’t you talk to him?”

“You should’ve seen him last night,” said Nishinoya with a laugh. “He was useless.”

Kageyama flushed.

“I’m sure Hinata appreciated him being there,” said Suga, patting Kageyama on the back.

“You seemed to be the most help last night, Sugawara-san” admitted Kageyama.

Both teams looked to Suga expectantly, but he just donned a sad smile. “I think Hinata’s told me all he’s going to. He was with us all morning, and he didn’t say a word about it.” He stared at Kenma, expectant. 

Kenma seemed to shrink. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

That… could work. “I can help you,” said Kuroo. He and Kenma, who balanced each other so well, might be perfect for this.

“You?” said Tsukishima, his voice dripping with doubt.

“Problem?” said Kuroo, grinning.

“You’re a bit of an asshole, Kuroo-san.”

“You can’t use an honorific and insult me in the same sentence,” snapped Kuroo.

“Just try to be nice.”

“I’m always nice!” said Kuroo, affronted.

Kuroo and Kenma found Hinata sitting in the hall outside the bathroom, face downcast. He looked tired.

“Chibi-chan,” called Kuroo, smile plastered into place. “We were starting to wonder if you’d fallen in.”

Hinata looked up, surprised. The fact that he didn’t immediately smile confirmed something for Kuroo. The show he’d been putting on wasn’t for Kuroo, and it wasn’t for Nekoma.

“Avoiding your team?” he said, plopping down next to him on the floor.

Hinata jolted. “Wh-What? No! Why would you–?”

“I get it,” said Kuroo as Kenma sat down on Hinata’s other side. “They’re freaking out, and it’s freaking you out.”

Hinata wilted. “They need me to be okay.”

Kenma pulled out his DS and started playing. He leaned against Hinata’s shoulder, keeping his eyes firmly on his game.

“You don’t have to be okay for anybody but yourself,” said Kenma.

“And if that takes a while, that’s fine, too,” said Kuroo.

“They’re worried–”

“Of course they’re worried!” said Kuroo. “You look like shit.” 

Hinata let out a small laugh. “You really are kind, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No!” he cried. “I mean it! You really are–”

Kuroo leaned forward to look at Kenma. “Hear that, Kenma? Chibi-chan thinks I’m kind.”

“He’s clearly delusional,” said Kenma, not looking up. “Must be the shock. From the trauma.”

Kuroo and Hinata stared at him, wide-eyed, before Hinata snorted and Kuroo muttered something under his breath about Kenma being the real asshole.

“Don’t pretend to be okay, Shoyo,” said Kenma. “That scares us more than anything else. That’s why they’re so worried.”

Hinata sniffed. “Really?”

Kenma nodded.

They sat there for a while longer, watching Kenma play his game, and when they returned to the gym, Hinata didn’t put so much effort into his smile.

Their second practice match went better. They still _lost_ , but it was a loss they could be proud of.

And if Hinata was a little jumpy for a while, if his smile wasn’t quite so carefree, if he wouldn’t set foot in the Sakanoshita Store for weeks, it was okay, because his senpai stood at his back, his teammates smiled for him, and Kageyama would venture in to buy the meat buns while Tsukishima and Yamaguchi kept him company outside.

And after a while, he really was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
